


Fire and Ice

by oooknuk



Category: due South
Genre: M/M, Psychological Torture, Torture
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-28
Updated: 2017-04-28
Packaged: 2018-10-24 20:50:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,495
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10749567
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oooknuk/pseuds/oooknuk
Summary: Gratuitous Ray thumping, kinky(ish) sex and conspiracy theories





	Fire and Ice

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: All characters you recognize will belong to Alliance. No infringement of copyright intended. Not for profit. 
> 
> Warnings: violence (Ray thumping), some slightly kinky sex (vanilla really), language, dumb plot 
> 
> Note: Studying animal physiology and writing fanfic leads to stuff like this. 
> 
> Thanks to Sasha, Anne and the mighty Wax Jism for beta, and Wax for letting me use her name and Sasha for the local colour. Sorry about the squick, Wax - turnabout is fair play, you know.

**` CONFIDENTIAL TRANSCRIPT: Project CCX-1013` ** **`` **

**` Subjects: 296M, 342M` ** **`` **

**` status: subjects on the road:` ** **`` **

**` directive: commence operations:` ** **`` **

**`status: understood:`**   
**`----------------------------------------------------------------------`**

"What a fucking waste of time," Ray said disgustedly, pulling his tie off and throwing it and his jacket in the back seat of his car.

"I have to agree with the sentiment if not your method of expressing it, Ray," Ben said with feeling. They had spent two nights in Cleveland standing ready to give evidence in a murder trial, only to have the defendant change his plea at the last moment, which meant they had spent nearly three days away from their real jobs for nothing.

"You in a hurry to get back, Fraser?" asked Ray, slipping into the driver's seat. Ben had uncharacteristically taken off his tunic, and rolled the sleeves of his white Henley up - but it _was_ pushing 100 degrees.

"No, actually I'm not. Inspector Murphy was aware I was unlikely to get back to Chicago before mid-afternoon and said he would see me Monday. What about you?"

"Welsh said the same. And I am going to enjoy my weekend off. I just want to get out of this place, and find somewhere cool."

Ray started up the car and they began the long drive back. Not for the first time, Ray wondered why Ben had come back to Chicago after their Canadian adventure - he always dodged the question when it came up and Ray had stopped asking. But the heat and the ugliness of the city was even getting to Ray after so many months in the wide open, clean, cool spaces - and two and half days sitting in court listening to lawyers hadn't exactly enriched his life either.

They talked little on the road, another consequence of their adventure. Now they mostly knew what the other thought before words were exchanged. Ray hoped Ben didn't know all he was thinking at times, but there was no doubt their friendship had become even stronger as a result of their travels. And Ray for one didn't want to argue with the gift of Fraser's unexpected return.

They stopped for lunch an hour outside Chicago, Ray wishing for the hundredth time that he had packed jeans and changed before they left. Ben was sweating and they were both reluctant to leave the coolness of the roadside restaurant. The GTO, great car that it was, unfortunately had less than state of the art air-conditioning and Ray was glad Ben had left Dief behind. The thought of the wolf whining all the way back to Chicago didn't exactly thrill him.

No sooner had they got back into the car than they felt an impact at the rear of the vehicle.

"Jesus H. Christ! How fucking close do you have to drive to hit someone here!" Ray burst out of the car, ready to yell at the moron who'd hit him, and was even madder to find it was some suit who probably never drove further than the local golf club. "What the hell do you think you're doing? Look what you've done to my car!" He heard Ben get out, and then a little groan. He turned his head to the sound, and in that split second, felt a stinging pain in his shoulder. The world went gray, then black.

**` ------------------------------------------------------------------------` ** **`` **

**` status :subjects secured:` ** **`` **

**` directive :proceed:` ** **`` **

**` status :understood:` ** **`` **

**` ------------------------------------------------------------------------` **

Ben woke with a pounding head, and a dry mouth, feeling confused and slightly nauseous. He lay still, and tried to analyze the sensation. Drugs, he thought. Some sort of anesthetic - that would explain the nausea. He couldn't see, but when he passed his hand over his eyes, he detected just enough movement  to realize it was because he was in the dark, not because he was blind. He sat up cautiously. He was on some sort of pallet, and dressed in his own boxer shorts, but a T-shirt he certainly hadn't been wearing before. Allowing his eyes to adjust,  faint light coming under a door on his right side let him see that he was in a small room, barely bigger than a storage closet. He stood with some difficulty, but his attempt to walk to the door was immediately thwarted by something tethering his ankles, and a belt around his waist. He felt around and found he was securely fastened by leather manacles of some sort - the belt was attached by a chain to the wall behind him. Padlocked. Almost immediately after making this discovery, a light came on behind a large window on the opposite side of the room, four feet away - just beyond his reach. The harsh fluorescent light flooded his cell which was smaller and with a lower ceiling than he'd guessed. In the even smaller room on the other side of the window, Ray lay unrestrained on a pallet, still apparently unconscious, and dressed as he himself was in boxers and shirt.  Ben called his name, but there was no reaction. The light made him look sickly,  the way hospitals and morgues did.

A disembodied male voice came from the ceiling, startling Ben. "He can't hear you."  The reproduction was such that it sounded as if the man was in the room with him.

"What do you want?"

"Nothing at the moment. Just your attention. Shortly, your friend will wake up and then you will be able to hear him, but he won't be able to hear you, so please don't waste your breath. You will be provided with food and water. There is no way out of this facility and you are being observed. No harm will come to you."

"What about him?"

"No harm will come to you."

Ben shouted at the ceiling, but there was no further communication. He tested the manacles and the waist belt, and he was quite firmly held. The light from the window revealed a small toilet to the left of him, and a shelf on the wall behind him to the right. Above the hatch was a small hatch door, closed and apparently locked. Otherwise the small room was entirely bare, painted in a uniform pale green adding to the institutional feel.  To the right of the window was a LED display showing 24 degrees (Celsius, Ben presumed), and a small digital clock below it . Despite the voice's instructions Ben called to Ray again but it was no use. Ben could almost but not quite touch the glass which confined his friend.  A few minutes he saw Ray stirring. He watched Ray sit up, holding his head - whatever had been used on Ben, appeared to have been used on him, because he was undoubtedly feeling groggy.

"Fraser?" Ray's voice came tinnily out of speakers beside the window. Ben watched him slowly stand and come over to the window, trying to see out. "Fraser? Are you there?"

"Yes, Ray," he shouted.  Although he knew Ray couldn't hear, it made him feel slightly better to talk to him. Ben was totally baffled by the situation. It was clearly a well-organised kidnap and the facility planned in advance of their arrival, but what was the purpose of it all? And more worryingly, why was Ray being singled out for exposure in this way?  The voice from the ceiling surprised Ben again.

"Watch the display beside the window. Your friend will shortly be feeling quite warm. The room is temperature controlled. I suggest you play close attention over the next twenty four hours to his condition."

Twenty four hours! Ben watched helplessly as the display registered the slowly rising room temperature. At first Ray seemed unperturbed, continuing to shout for Ben, testing the door and asking to be let out but when the gauge showed 30 degrees, he showed the first signs of alarm. "Hey! I'm cooking in here! Let me out! You're gonna fry me!"  As the temperature approached 40 degrees, Ray began to panic, pounding on the glass with his fists, the sweat pouring off him, his eyes wide with fright. Eventually, as the temperature rose above 45 degrees, he stopped shouting, took his T-shirt off and slumped against the glass, with his face pressed against the presumably cooler surface. _Good,_ Ben thought. _Reduce your activity, Ray. Conserve your body fluids._ Ray closed his eyes almost as if he had heard his partner's thoughts.

The temperature stopped rising at 50 degrees. Ray kept still, save for his heaving chest. Ben knew that the human body could sustain this temperature for some time, provided fluids were given. Sweat was continuing to run off Ray's body, and it would not be long before he would need to replenish the water loss. But nothing was provided.  Ben watched him for two hours as Ray hardly moved, except to wipe the sweat from his eyes with a lazy hand from time to time.

Finally the voice told him, "Look to your right." Ben turned, and the small hatch above the shelf opened, revealing a plastic cup. "Take it."

Ben obeyed. "Taste it." When he hesitated, the voice announced, "That's another 3 degrees for your friend. Taste it." He watched in sick horror as the temperature was racked up that little more, and Ray moaned weakly at the extra torment, moving feebly away from the blasting heat vents. Ben sipped at the cup, and spat the fluid out. Salt water. "Now watch."

Ben saw another hatch open in the room holding Ray, watched him take a cup identical to the one he held and knew with total certainty what it contained. He shouted at Ray to tell him to leave it but could only watch as he drank the water greedily and threw it up immediately. Ray screamed abuse in a raw, cracked voice and threw the half empty cup at the window, then slumped again.

"Why are you doing this! What do you want from us?" Ben yelled, throwing his own plastic cup away.

"You are not the one asking questions. Be quiet, or your friend will suffer more. Don't be concerned. He will be cool soon enough." Ben struggled against the restraints and could have cried from frustration at the feeling of impotence. To his shock he could head Ray mumbling, talking to him.

"Well, this sucks, Benton-buddy. Geez, I'd kill for a drink - drink bark tea if I had some. Can you hear me, Fraser? Cos I feel kinda dumb here, but hey, my brain's frying anyway. That was a fucking dirty trick they played. Guess I should've kept it, huh. Coulda splashed it on, got cool, what do you think? You think I'm gonna die here, Fraser? Cos, you know, that's not how I planned things to go. Not like a turkey dinner. No way. Was gonna go back to Canada with you, and we were gonna go on a last big adventure, and I could fall asleep in the snow when I was 98 or something. Not like this. Not before ... no, better can it, Kowalski. Fraser hears this, he'll know you're nutso. Anyway, Fraser. Hope you're having fun, cos this is just not. Fun, I mean. Fraser? Can you hear me, buddy? You know, I think it's cooling down in here. Hey, that feels better."

Ray stood up and found the vents pumping in cooler air as Ben saw the temperature gauge slowly fall. The relief on Ray's face was almost beautiful but Ben's guts were churning. He knew their captors were unlikely to have stopped playing with them. Briefly his hopes rose as the hatch in Ray's room opened and revealed another cup, this time with something drinkable which Ray tasted cautiously then gulped down, clearly wanting more. He relaxed and put his shirt back on as the room temperature headed back into the twenties, but as it dipped below 15 degrees he started to walk around for warmth, talking to Ben all the while.

"Not funny. One minute pot roast, next minute popsicle. Hey, you want to bring back that heat again? That was better. This is not good. Don't like the cold, Fraser. Not with no clothes on. Fraser? God, I hope you're there, buddy. Hope you got some super Mountie plan going cos I'm not liking this much and I'd really like to go home, you know?" The temperature dropped inexorably towards zero and once again Ray huddled against the window, arms tightly wrapped around bent knees, his voice almost unintelligible for the shivering which racked his thin body.

"Fraser - I'm cold here. Guess you worked that out. I think this is worse actually so if anyone's listening, I'd really like the heat, if you don't mind. You told me about this, remember, Fraser? That hypothermia thing? How long do I get? I'm dry, but I got no clothes so go figure. You let me know when the old brain starts to go. That's what happens, isn't it? The brain goes, then everything shuts down, then the heart stops. You told me all about it up north. 'M still shivering - that's good, isn't it?"

The tiny wedge of hope in Ray's voice broke Ben's heart. Ray knew exactly what the cold would do to him, Ben had indeed drilled him well, and now all they could do was wait until their tormentors made their plans known. Or Ray's body just called a halt.

Ray kept mumbling, but the temperature fell to 5 degrees below zero. Inevitably Ray's monologue became gibberish before he fell silent, lay on the floor curled up in a tight ball and  stopped shivering as his thermoregulation shut down. His face looked even more corpse-like than the light was already making it, and it was only the slow movements of his chest which told Ben his friend was still alive. He hoped the sadists doing this knew the limits of human physiology but he had few hopes that Ray would soon be released.

Ray was allowed to remain in his hypothermic state for more than an hour before the temperature gauge showed a slow rise once again. This time the temperature stayed at 27 degrees until he regained consciousness and started moving sluggishly. It rose to 30 degrees and stayed there for an hour. Ray was disoriented at first but then managed to push himself upright and pound weakly on the windows. "OK, joke's over. Whatever you want, you have it. You want my PIN number? You want my first born child? My turtle? You got it. Just let me out of here." Ben knew - as Ray must - that his captors wanted nothing from him.

The next eighteen hours replayed the vicious cycle over and over. First Ray was tormented by heat until he was unable to move then brought back to hypothermia until he was unconscious. Sometimes he was given plain water, sometimes salt and worryingly he seemed to care little which it was, swallowing both, and only the wince told Ben which was saline. He became slower and slower at emerging from the hypothermia and he no longer moved around, just remaining  slumped against the window, moving only to take  water when offered. He was clearly reaching his limit of exhaustion. The human body couldn't cope with such temperature extremes for any length of time, Ben well knew.  The twenty four deadline was approaching and he had to hope the end of Ray's ordeal was also coming.

He dared not sleep although he ate the plain food and drank the water provided twice through the hatch. He felt it would betray his partner to be comfortable and unaware while Ray suffered, but all the same the stress was telling and Ben felt he was close to snapping. He could have endured the fire and ice treatment more readily than watching his friend go through this, to see him grow weaker, his skin paler and more fragile with each cruel cycle. Or through all of it, to  listen to the cracked, failing voice telling him how afraid he was die alone, not knowing if Ben would ever see him again.

Finally the disembodied voice spoke again. "You have seen what we can do to your friend. There is no effort on our part - it's all automated. We can keep this up for days. So please do not delude yourself that you can outlast our patience. Your friend certainly can't. Sit down."

Ben obeyed instantly. "You will be asked a series of questions. You will earn your friend another six hours in the room for every false or incorrect answer or if you delay. We will check your replies. If we are satisfied you and your friend will be freed. If not, you and he will stay here. Do you understand?"

"Yes."

"State your full name and occupation."

Ben ran through a series of innocuous questions to the interrogator's apparent satisfaction. But when asked for the access code to the consulate computers, he hesitated for a fatal second.

"That's six more hours."

Ben cried out the answer they wanted but he was ignored. He had to watch Ray go through another cycle, even though he was now unable to rise and barely able to curl up when the temperature fell. Ray kept his face to the glass undoubtedly hoping Ben could see him and when he placed a palm on the glass as if to try and touch whoever was on the other side, Ben snapped. He pulled and pulled against the ankle restraints until he damaged himself, screamed until he was hoarse. But it did no good. The six hours were endured in full, without even the slight comfort of hearing Ray's voice - he was now beyond speech, beyond movement almost. He sweated less and shivered hardly at all, signs that he had reached his limit for this abuse. The fear Ray had shown was no less than what Ben felt now - he knew he was close to watching his friend die in front of him, without ever being able to touch him again, or offer a single word of comfort.

Despite his intentions, Ben was half dozing where he sat, the unchanging sight in front of him hypnotic, so the voice announcing the end of the six hours was a shock. He scrambled to his feet. This time there was no hesitation in answering any questions. Nothing Ben knew could be worth holding back at the price of Ray's life, but he still didn't understand. At several points he was abandoned for over an hour while his information was checked and all the time Ray was being tormented. And every time the voice announced that he had answered correctly. So if they knew the answers, what the hell was all this about? He no longer cared. He had to get Ray out. He forced himself to concentrate only on the questions, even though he was also acutely aware of the tiniest sound, the smallest movement from Ray which told him he was still alive. He couldn't afford to be distracted - to make another mistake which might kill his partner.

The questioning took over ten hours. Ben had no way of knowing if Ray's brain had been damaged by the temperature extremes. With the utter stillness of Ray's body giving him no information about his health, all Ben had was hope.

Finally. "Turn to your right." Ben obeyed and saw another cup of water. "Drink." The water wasn't salty but there was definitely a chemical taste. Poison? He decided he didn't care - if he refused, they would likely kill Ray with more of their cruelty. He sat down suddenly as his legs gave out. Poison, he thought. "Ray," he breathed, as he collapsed slowly.

**` ------------------------------------------------------------------------` ** **`` **

**` status :project successfully completed:` ** **`` **

**` directive :proceed to terminal stage:` ** **`` **

**` status :understood:` ** **`` **

**` ------------------------------------------------------------------------` **

Ben woke to blinding light and intense heat. Sunlight and an unwelcome, familiar sensation of nausea and dry mouth. He rolled weakly, giving himself relief from the bright sun on his face, feeling disoriented from the sudden change in view from the window he had faced for nearly two days. _Ray,_ he thought, and pushed himself up with a groan. He, like Ray, was unshackled, redressed in the clothes he had been captured in and seated in the back seat of the GTO.  He realized that they were in the same place where they had been attacked - the restaurant parking lot.  Ray was lying against the far window,  still unconscious. Ben pulled his head into his lap and touched his face - warm, but not hot. Breathing deeply. Face in a grimace of pain, perhaps from a dream. "Ray," he said, shaking him gently. He called to him over and over but he did not wake. Ben cradled him against his chest, his brain too muzzy and his body too weak to do anything else for now.

Finally Ray began to mumble and Ben loosened the death grip he'd maintained for over an hour. This time Ray made an incoherent response to his name being called. Ben helped him sit up a little, still supporting him.

"Fraser?" Ray's voice was frighteningly weak.

"I'm here, Ray. Take it easy."

"Made it."

"Yes you did." He stroked the too dry skin of Ray's face and pulled him close. He didn't give a damn what this looked like or what Ray would think. He'd come too close to losing him.

Ray turned confused eyes to Ben, his face deathly pale. "Why?"

Ben held him tighter. "I have no idea."

Ray slumped and Ben realized that he has fallen asleep or become unconscious again. He sat him against the door again. Ray's breathing was still deep and steady and Ben hoped this meant he was simply getting the drug out of his system. Feeling a little less dizzy and sick, Ben opened the door of the car and got out. Both of them had been bathed and dressed in freshly laundered clothes. The GTO had been detailed, repaired and looked brand new - no doubt any trace of their captors or their journey had been removed.  He looked in the trunk of the car and found their luggage as they left it, also a cheap travel bag which turned out to contain a 2 liter bottle of mineral water, some chocolate and some dried fruit and nuts in plain plastic bags. Ray's cell phone, fully charged, was in his jacket, which was, like Ben's tunic, neatly folded on the luggage shelf of the car.

Just as he was reaching for the phone to call for assistance, it rang. He answered it and was astonished to hear Lieutenant Welsh's voice.

"Fraser? Where the hell are you? Where's Kowalski?"

"He's with me, sir." He gave the lieutenant an estimate of their position.

"We just got an anonymous call to say you two needed help - told us where you were, approximately. I'm already en route to you. Are you hurt?"

"I'm fine, sir. Ray is unconscious - he's been drugged, but he's not injured. We've been held captive."

Welsh didn't delay things by getting more information - he was driving from Chicago with his investigators, and the local police would meet him and come to their location. Welsh told Ben to stay put and hung up.

Ben checked Ray's condition - still sleeping, but in no apparent danger - and then surveyed the surroundings. The parking lot was empty - it was only eight o'clock according to Welsh, well before the restaurant would be open. There were, by his reckoning, 12 hours unaccounted for. Assuming 6 hours there and 6 back, they could have been taken almost anywhere on the American continent. But this also assumed that the clock in his cell was accurate - the exhaustion he felt might be explained by his keeping awake for even longer than 40 hours, as he thought. There was no way of knowing.

Tired, worried and feeling shaky, he got back into the car and sat next to his partner again, supporting his head in his lap, stroking his hair. He'd found his father's watch in his tunic but it had stopped so he had no way of knowing how long it was before he heard sirens - perhaps less than half an hour. Welsh arrived in a patrol car with a police surgeon and two uniformed cops. Two Forensics officers turned up separately. Ray stirred at all the commotion and Ben helped him sit up. He was too tired himself to stand at Welsh's approach.

"Fraser? You look like hell. Kowalski, you OK?"

"I'm all right, Lieutenant. It's Ray who's been through the worst."

Ben told Welsh what he knew.  The doctor and Welsh helped Ray out of the car and put him on a blanket on the ground. Other than to briefly answer questions, Ray sat quietly, allowing the police surgeon to examine him and draw blood for drug analysis. Once the doctor had finished, he lay down, apparently asleep. The surgeon turned his attention to Ben, drawing blood from him also and asking him a series of questions about the conditions of their captivity.

"Will Ray be all right, doctor?"

The doctor packed up his equipment. "I'd be happier if he went to the hospital ..."

"No hospitals. Home," came a muffled voice from near his feet.

"However," continued the doctor smoothly, "Apart from the effects of the drug, which is already clearing your systems, I think the main problem is exhaustion. He's sore in the muscles which I put down to the shivering bouts and dehydration. I found the mark of an IV, so it's possible they made some attempt to replace fluids while you were out. Will you look after him? You're not in much shape..."

"I'll take him home. I'll look after him," Ben said emphatically.

"Correction, Constable," Welsh interrupted. "I'll take you both home. Forensics will want to hold Ray's car, and anyway neither of you are fit to drive."

"Fraser?" Ray's voice was weaker. Ben knelt by him. "Get me home, please? Tired ..."

"Yes, of course. Lieutenant, can we ...?"

Welsh checked that the investigation was in hand, and passed over control to the lead Forensics officer. Then he and Ben helped Ray into the back seat of a patrol car. Ben sat with Ray's head in his lap for the journey, dozing himself for some of it. Welsh didn't speak to them for which Ben was profoundly grateful. There was too much to think about, and he just felt too woozy to process it all.

They were back at Ray's apartment within an hour and a half, Ben insisting that he didn't want to return to his own place until Ray was up and about. He tried to help rouse Ray so he could help him up the stairs, but couldn't. Welsh picked the sleeping man up and carried him up the stairs in a fireman's lift while Ben made his own slow way up. Amazingly, Ray didn't wake at all. Ben unlocked the door with his spare key and Welsh placed Ray carefully on his bed. Ben undressed him down to his underwear, and pulled the covers over him.

He followed Welsh out into the living room and slumped tiredly on the sofa. Welsh looked worried. "Fraser, you really should be in bed yourself."

"I'm fine, sir. I can sleep here ... and I need to be with Ray. Watching him like that .... "

Welsh nodded sympathetically. "It's OK, Constable. I understand. But you take it easy, and you call me if you need anything - or Ray does. I'll speak to Inspector Murphy, fill him in. What about Diefenbaker?"

"My neighbor has him - if you could call around and ask her to keep him for another day or so, I'd be grateful."

"Of course. Listen, you and Ray, take 24 hours to get yourselves back in order," Welsh didn't notice Ben flinch at the time limit, "and I'll see you both at the station tomorrow. Get some rest, do what the doctor said and get some food and fluid inside both of you."

Welsh stood and placed a friendly hand on his shoulder. "You got through it, Fraser. So did Ray. That's all that matters."

"Yes, sir. Thank you."

"I'll see myself out. Get some sleep."

Welsh let himself out. Ben didn't know what to do. There was only the one bed, and he felt too tired to make up the sofa. Then he realized that there was only one place he wanted to be. He unlaced off his boots, stripped off his uniform down to his boxers and went into the bedroom. If he were in his right mind, he would have realized he was about to violate the unspoken rule of their friendship - crossing that line they had both been nudging for months now, between friendship and love.  But all he could think was that he watched this man being tormented - almost to the point of death - and he could not bear to be apart from him any longer. He slid onto the bed up behind Ray and pulled the covers over both of them. He wrapped his arm around Ray, placed his hand over Ray's heart so he could assure himself of his continued existence and fell asleep instantly.

 

* * *

Ray's head hurt, so did his gut which was cramping up on him. He didn't want to move but he needed to pee. Slowly he worked out where he was. The room was dark but familiar, illuminated by the streetlights. _Home,_ he thought. What was not familiar was the warmth at his back or the arm holding him tightly. He twisted slowly, every muscle in his body screaming in agony - he didn't want to know why that was. He was utterly astonished to find the person clutching him to their chest was his  partner and he briefly wondered if Ben was ill or injured. He reached a tentative hand to Ben's face, and he mumbled. Just asleep then. Ray debated whether he should wake him but his own slight wriggles of discomfort were enough. He found Ben's eyes open and looking at him.

"You want to tell me what you're doing in my bed, Fraser?" he asked mildly.

Ben scrambled back, but Ray restrained him. "I'm so sorry, Ray - I wasn't thinking. I was tired..."

Ray put a hand on his arm. "That's OK, buddy. I was worried you had a head injury or something. Relax, will you?"

"I'll move into the other room."

"No. Stay there. I want to talk to you, and you may as well be comfortable. Gotta pee first."

"Do you need a hand?" Ray laughed and Ben looked away in embarrassment at his unintended double entendre. "I _meant,_ to get to the bathroom."

Ray struggled out of the bed. God, everything hurt. But he could just about stay upright. "No, I think I'm good. Just wait."

He had to hold onto the wall and didn't dare try to urinate standing up. He drank from the faucet, still so thirsty. Still could taste that damn salt water, and the nausea it had caused. The face in the mirror looked like death warmed up. He remembered all too clearly how he got into that state - what he didn't know was why Ben looked so bad. He smiled, remembering the feel of Ben's arms around him. At least he could stop pretending to himself and to Ben that this wasn't exactly how he wanted to wake up for the rest of his life.

He moved slowly back into the bedroom and found Ben sitting up almost at attention. "Come on, Fraser, lie down. It's the middle of the night, and you need to sleep. I'm not going anywhere for another twelve hours, I can tell you." He climbed back into the bed, and tugged Ben down. Ben lay stiffly - Ray decided to hell with that and wrapped his own arms around his partner. OK, this was _waaay_ strange, he thought. But strange was normal at the moment. He felt Ben relax, more out of tiredness than ease, but he didn't much care why - just that he did. He felt sleep pulling at him almost immediately but wanted some answers.

"Welsh?"

Ben's voice was soft and weary, but clear. "He's getting your car examined by Forensics but our captors went to a lot of trouble to remove any traces of themselves. I don't think they'll find anything."

"Do we know why? Do you know what happened to me? What happened to you?"

Ben hesitated, and Ray felt the other man's heart rate go through the roof, feeling it under the palm on his chest. "Calm down, Ben. It's over. Did they hurt you?"

"They hurt _you,_ Ray. I had to watch. All of it. And some of it was my fault." Ray was shocked by the way Ben's voice was breaking and instinctively he held him tighter. Ben tried to move away. "Don't - you don't know," he said in a small voice.

Ray refused to let him go. "I do know - I know you wouldn't hurt me on purpose. Tell me what happened."

Ben confessed to what he had seen, how he unintentionally caused Ray more pain. Ray was silent for a long time, thinking, and then he spoke. "That totally fucking sucks, Fraser. It was bad enough going through that but knowing you had to watch - and listen... I had it easy."

Ben made a choked noise. "That's what I thought," and laughed hysterically, almost weeping, until Ray pulled him close and forced him  to quiet down. He let Ben cling to him, knowing that the hardest part was causing the pain, not enduring it. The physical agony would soon be a distant memory but the mental torment, for Ben, would last a long time.

"I'm sorry, Ray," Ben snuffled eventually.

"How about we stop the apologizing, and you get that sleep. Me too."

"Shall I stay in here?"

"If you move, I'll break your arm. I need you in here, that enough for you? We'll talk in the morning."

He felt Ben nod, and on impulse, he dropped a gentle kiss on the other man's forehead, and left his head on Ben's shoulder. He felt a smile against his cheek. "Sleep well, Ray."

" 'Night, Ben."

 

* * *

The annoying sound of his bedside telephone woke Ray, and he fumbled for it, barely taking in the fact that the bedroom was now bathed in sunlight. "Yeah."

"Kowalski? Welsh. You OK?"

"Still asleep, boss."

"Fraser?"

"Him too. What's up?"

"Nothing - just checking you made it. The car's clean by the way."

"Yeah, Fraser thought it would be. Look, Lieu - we'll be in later, OK? I'm pretty whacked, Fraser's still down for the count. Any problem with that?"

"None at all, Ray. I'll see you this afternoon. Tell the constable that his wolf is taken care of, so's his boss. He's got a couple of days off. You too."

"Thanks Lieu. You got any ideas about this?"

"No, but I'm getting Mulder and Scully right on it. Later, Detective."

Ray grinned as he hung up, and rolled over to find Ben scrubbing his face. "You feeling better?"

"Somewhat. You?"

Ray took a second to stretch. Nope, everything still hurt. Brain was less fuzzy, though. "I think we'll say I'm operating at 50% capacity and leave it at that."

"I better get going."

Ben was about to move out of the bed, but Ray grabbed him.

"Hold up, buddy. We got some talking to do."

"Ray, about last night - I'm sorry ..."

"I'm not - not about you being in my bed, if that's what you're talking about. "

Ben blushed and looked uncomfortable. "I took advantage of your physical condition. That is unforgivable."

"Nah. Ben, you were beat, you were hurting. It's OK. I figure we came too close this time to missing out on each other. I'm thinking you feel the same about me as I do you. Am I right?"

"God, Ray, yes." Ben took Ray by surprise by embracing him fiercely.

"Uh, Fraser?" Ray squeaked. "Air."

Ben let go. "Sorry. But now you know."

"Yeah. And so do you. But Welsh is expecting us downtown this afternoon, and we got to catch the assholes who did this. So, I think we should start using our cop brains - if you're up to it."

"I'm OK. Still tired. Hungry ... good grief, Ray! I'll make some breakfast."

Ray grinned, and let his over efficient partner bustle about feeding and taking care of him.

Both men were ravenous and thirsty and took their time, luxuriating in the freedom to eat and drink of their own choosing. Ben cleared up but Ray stayed seated - he was still  stiff and sore. "Don't understand it, Fraser - I hardly moved. Why do I hurt?"

"The doctor indicated it was from all the shivering. I'm just grateful you aren't worse off."

"Says you. I feel like I'm 103," Ray grumbled. Ben helped him up and Ray took the opportunity to kiss him on the lips. Ben's face broke into a  smile.

"You're welcome, Ray." He stroked the other man's hair. "Perhaps a hot bath might help?"

"Anything. Tylenol too. I'm not proud."

Ben fed him the painkillers and ran the bath. Ray let him undress him - they had, after all, seen each other nude many times during after their trip north - and now there was no need for shyness. "Join me?" Ray said, once he was settled. Ben stripped and stepped into the bath, facing his friend.

"Christ, Ben, look at your ankles."

Ben looked. Large, deep bruises circled each ankle, halfway up his calf.

"I was shackled. I'm afraid I got carried away when ... when I saw you...." Ben swallowed, like he was trying to choke down a memory.

Ray touched his face. "It's over, Ben."

He smiled. "I like that."

"Being called Ben?"

"Yes."

"You're a cheap date."

Ben flicked water at his partner. "All you need is a hug and you're anyone's, Ray Kowalski."

Ray was delighted that his friend had recovered enough to be playful - it made the terrors in his own mind shrink a little. "That's me, Ben. The original cuddle slut. I can't reach my feet. You want to do them while you're down there?"

Ben helped Ray out and toweled him dry. Even though Ray declared the heat of the bath had helped, he enthusiastically accepted the suggestion of a liniment rub. Ben got him to lie face down on a towel on the bed, and knelt between Ray's spread legs. "You know, Ben - when I thought about you and me in this position before, a  massage wasn't exactly what I thought we'd be doing." He didn't even have to turn around to know that Ben was blushing, and he grinned into the pillow.

Ben was an expert in the application of the liniment and Ray almost purred as he felt his muscles easing, the pain dissipating under the firm hands and the menthol heat. "Don't get that stuff anywhere sensitive," he warned, and was rewarded by a finger running quickly up the cleft of his buttocks, making him yelp. He rolled and glared at his smirking partner. "Bastard - that wasn't Mountie-like."

"I'm almost certain there is no established procedure for nude massages, Ray."

"Well, I'm telling you, you get that stuff anywhere that hurts and you'll be singing soprano."

"You mean, we both will, surely." Ray threw a pillow at him. Ben was too much in this sort of mood.

Finally after the massage, more aspirin, an early lunch, and some phone calls, Ray declared himself up to the task of dealing with the aftermath of their kidnapping

They got a taxi to Ben's apartment so he could change into street clothes and then another to the precinct. Welsh was relieved to see them looking so refreshed but wasted no time in getting Ray's statement and reviewing what was known so far. After hearing what Ben had to say, and what the Forensics people hadn't found, Ray spoke for them all. "We're dealing with spooks here, aren't we." A statement, not a question

"So I'd say, Detective. I've been in contact with the Feds, and officially - they're on it. Unofficially..."

"We'll never find a thing." Ray snorted with disgust. "They coulda killed me, boss. Came damn close. Well, they're not getting away with it. I'm not gonna let this rest."

Ben cleared his throat. "I have to say also, Lieutenant, that my country takes a dim view of this sort of thing, and the kidnapping of one of its citizen will be taken amiss."

Welsh put his hands up. "Boys, you get no argument from me. No one does this to my people and gets away with it. Go for it. Take all the help you need."

Ray picked up a department vehicle and drove them both to the Canadian Consulate. Welsh had alerted the Canadians to the security breach, and Ben's boss took him in for a prolonged interview with a CSIS officer - who turned out to be Meg Thatcher, much to Ben's pleased surprise. She had flown in from Toronto that morning. After she and Inspector Murphy interviewed Ben separately, she called Ray in and listened to both men carefully.

Finally - "Well, Constable - Fraser - officially, we take the view that this crime was committed on American soil and so must be investigated by the police here. Unofficially," she lowered her voice, so that the two men had to lean in to hear her, "I'll ask around. We don't like this happening to our people."

"It could easily have happened on Canadian territory," Ben pointed out. "The time delay between our being drugged and being released might indicate we were held quite some distance from where we were taken. "

Thatcher narrowed her eyes. "Or that's what they wanted you to think."

Ray shrugged. "Who knows? Neither of us saw a damn thing - we could've been in a huge building, or a house, or underground. Anywhere."

"Ray's right. There was total sound proofing, and I saw no one and heard only Ray and the voice from the speaker. Even the time elapsed could have been falsely recorded."

Thatcher stood up. "Leave it with me, men. Constable, can I just say, speaking personally of course, that I am glad you are unharmed."

"Thank you, sir," he said warmly with a heart-melting smile. Ray guessed he was doing it deliberately.

Thatcher blushed. "Well, it would be a waste of Canadian resources to have to replace a trained officer."

"But, like, _I'm_ expendable, huh?" Ray teased. The blush intensified.

"To the Canadian government, yes, strictly speaking, you are. But speaking ... personally ... of course ..."

"Of course."

"I'm pleased you appear to also be in good health." Ray's grin continued to disconcert her, and she busied herself with her notes. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I must make my report."

Ben watched her leave. "Ray ...," he said in mild rebuke, trying not to smile.

"I know, Fraser. Can't help myself. And you're just as bad. Now what?"

"I'd like to collect Diefenbaker - and go ...." The question hung in the air.

"You're coming back with me, Ben. No arguments."

"I wouldn't dream of it."

 

* * *

The two men climbed the stairs, Ben helping Ray up the last flight. The painkillers he had taken, and Ben's massage, had long worn off, and Ray was aching again. Ben dropped him like a rag doll onto the sofa, but Ray hung on to him, pulling him off balance and onto the seat beside him. "Ray - you need...."

"You. I need you, Ben. Now sit." He took Ben's face in his hands, and kissed him tenderly, leisurely. Ben allowed himself to forget momentarily that he should be taking care of Ray, and let Ray take care of him. He could feel this to the tips of his toes. So long he had loved this man, but the physical side of things he had not really dwelt on - hadn't dared. Never could he have imagined that the tough man, the hard as nails cop would be such a gentle lover. He found his hand wandering, opening buttons almost without conscious will, moving against warm skin, finding and teasing a nipple. Ray, for his part, ran his hands through Ben's hair, and gripped his shoulders, but never once set his mouth free. Oh god - the taste of this man, the electric feel of his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

Ray finally pulled away, and lay his head in the crook of Ben's neck, sucking on the skin, kissing it, nibbling it. "I could eat you, Ben Fraser."

"So I can see, Ray. But perhaps...," he leaned forward, adjusting his weight, pushing Ray carefully back until he lay flat on the sofa, then he swung the long legs up off the floor and lay on top of him, "you might allow me to do something first."

He sat back, and undid Ray's fly buttons, pulled the jeans down, and the boxers as well. Ray's eyes - wide, dark, glittering with lust - watched his every move. He reached his own hand down and held his erection. "You want to taste me?"

"Yes," Ben said simply, and bent his head, replacing Ray's hand with his own, and taking Ray's penis in his mouth. Oh the taste of _this._ Ray was always teasing him - a trait he shared with Ray Vecchio - about what he would put into his mouth but Ben's taste buds were not inured to foul things. He simply accepted their necessity on occasion. But this, this rich taste of life, of Ray -  it filled his senses. He dimly realized that Ray was tugging on his hair, and not gently. "Mmmm?"

"Ben - stop. Want to...."

Stop? No, he couldn't. He lifted his eyes, and apologized silently to Ray who nodded slowly and lay back, accepting that this time Ben could not be polite. He resumed his loving worship, loving the feel of the silky skin against his tongue, testing it a little with his teeth, and feeling Ray's hips buck. He stroked the wiry hair and the testicles,  making Ray gasp, so he stopped and just held them gently, feeling them draw up as Ray reached his climax and flooded Ben's mouth with the salty essence of himself. The proof of his being alive.

Ray lay with his eyes closed, his mouth open in an 'O' of orgasmic pleasure, then his expression softened as Ben moved up his body, looking for and finding his mouth and taking it. "I wanted to make love to you, and now I can't," he complained mildly. "Why?"

"I just needed to. Needed you. I'm sorry."

"Don't ... don't apologize for something like that, Ben. But let me..." His hand moved to Ben's fly, and Ben obligingly undid it, and exposed what Ray was looking for. He hissed at the first touch of Ray's hand, and pushed into it, needing more, and took Ray's mouth, encouraging with his tongue what he wanted from Ray's hand. Both bachelors, both suffering unrequited love and having no sexual outlet with either sex, Ben knew that Ray was not, as he was not, any stranger to this form of release. But the feel of someone else's hand, one used with love and desire, was an entirely different thing from  jerking off at night, alone. This was like being plugged in, set alight, and he thrust and wriggled and moaned shamelessly against Ray's body, his willing mouth. He came all over Ray's bare stomach, then Ray wiped his finger through the mess and brought it to his lips, licking it thoughtfully. He held his fingers out to Ben who kissed them, licked them clean and then took them into his mouth and suckled on them gently while Ray ran his other hand over and over through Ben's hair. Ben rested his head on Ray's chest.

"I don't usually do stuff like this on a first date, you know," Ray said peacefully.

"I'm afraid I've never had a 'first date' to know if I do or not, Ray. But I do know if anything had happened to you, if I had never been able to taste you, love you, there would not be words enough to tell of my regret. Or my sorrow."

Ray kissed the top of Ben's head. "You felt it too. You needed to connect."

Ben nodded against Ray's chest. Oh yes. Connect. Affirm. Mark and claim. Most important, keep Ray from the faceless, nameless sons of bitches who nearly killed him.

The room grew dark. Dief had long since fallen asleep on the rug, and unusually had not whined for either food or relief. Ben could hear Ray's stomach rumbling and guiltily remembered that he needed food and drink to make up a deficit, and probably pain killers since the post-orgasmic high had long since dissipated. But as Ben moved to get up Ray's grip tightened and he grumbled something unintelligible.

"Ray, you need to eat. Take something for the pain."

"No. Just need you."

Ben subsided. He wasn't crushing Ray too badly, his partner didn't want to move, and in truth, neither did he. They could move to the bed later. If they wanted to.

Ben did in fact manage to shift them both into the bedroom around midnight, tiredly stripping Ray down to bare skin, and shrugging his own clothes off and leaving them, uncharacteristically, where they lay. When would this tiredness go, he wondered. He felt soul weary, even as the feel of his love - his partner - excited and warmed him. He hoped the fatigue would fade with more sleep. But uneasily he sensed that it might take more than that.

 

* * *

He woke with a heavy warm weight settled across his groin. He opened his eyes to find Ray straddling him, holding two mugs, dressed only in boxers. "Hello, Ray - comfortable up there, are you?" he said with amusement

Ray rocked a little, sending a jolt of pleasure through Ben's morning erection. "Thought you might like some tea."

Ben took the offered cup, and set it down, then took the other from Ray and put it aside. "Want you more." He pulled Ray down, who immediately began to rock rhythmically against Ben's underwear-clad groin as Ben kissed him hungrily. He could taste that Ray had cleaned his teeth, had had at least a sip of coffee - and had eaten chocolate. Ah, the candy in his coffee. Ray was relentless, riding Ben until they came almost at the same time, continuing to kiss and tongue him as the ripples of orgasm settled down, then collapsing against his neck.

Ben said into his ear, "I think you make a most interesting alarm clock, Ray," which made his lover chuckle.

Ray lifted his head and looked at him. "You kept me awake last night, Ben," he said more seriously

"Did I? How?"

Rat sat up, no longer smiling. "Nightmares. Yelling. Leaping off the goddamn bed. Don't you remember?"

"No - I can't say I do."

"Well, I suppose that's good." He handed Ben his tea, and rolled off him so Ben could sit up. "I guess that's not something you do a lot, huh?"

"I have been known to have nightmares, Ray, but Diefenbaker is the only witness who could say if they are usually so violent. I suspect not."

"It's me - what you saw? You were yelling my name."

"It would seem the most likely cause, yes."

"You know," Ray said carefully, "they got counselors..."

"Well, yes, of course," Ben said, a little testily. "The RCMP isn't exactly in the Stone Age, you know. But I think the real answer is to find out why this happened to us, and who is responsible."

Ray lay down again and held him close. "Calm down, Fraser. We will. But we're safe now - that's all that matters."

Safe for now, Ben thought. But for how long?

 

* * *

They returned to work after another day, and they were given freedom and tacit permission to pursue the investigation into their own kidnapping. This involved following one step behind the Feds and hoping something had been missed. But nothing had - the surveillance video in the restaurant where they had had lunch had been removed and examined, and all witnesses questioned. They returned to the place where they had been taken, but there was no evidence at all to help. They even tried to trace the spare parts used to repair Ray's car, with no luck.

After three days getting nowhere in the field, Ben suggested a new tack - looking for similar abduction cases. They settled down for a serious day's computer searching, but he and Ray had spent barely an hour doing so before Ray was peremptorily summoned to Welsh's office and told to quit working on the case. Simultaneously Ben got a call telling him to get back to the consulate. Both men found they were suddenly reassigned to pressing duties.

Which remained pressing. After a week of being unable to make any enquiries and being kept busy with tedious make work tasks, Ray was ready to explode. "They don't want to find out the answers, Ben."

"No, it would appear not. But I have one other avenue we could try."

"Maggie?"

Ben was surprised, and then pleased at his deduction. "Why, Ray, they'll make a detective out of you yet. Yes, I'm going to ring her and ask her to make a search on her detachment computer."

Ben called Maggie that evening, and she promised to try and help. The following morning he received an unexpected visitor at the Consulate.

"Meg?" He was too surprised to be formal.

"Fraser, come with me." She took him into the sitting room and shut the door. "You have to drop this, Fraser. Asking your sister for help is putting her in danger. And yourself."

"Ray's phone is bugged."

"Ray's _apartment_ is bugged, dammit!" She lowered her voice. "None of this happened by accident. You can't hide from these people, you can't expose them and you have to stop."

"And if I don't?"

She sighed. "Fraser ... Benton." The use of his first name surprised him. "I have been able to arrange a meeting with ... a person ... to answer your queries ...."

They were interrupted by Lieutenant Welsh opening the door and ushering in Ray and himself.

"You want to tell me what is going on here, lady?" Ray said, squaring up to Thatcher.

"Sit down, Detective. I was just explaining. I have arranged for all of us to meet someone who will answer some of your questions. In exchange for this, you have to give your binding word that you will not pursue enquiries about this, or ask anyone else. This is not a joke."

"Boss, did you agree to this? You like what's happening here?"

"Kowalski, does this look like a happy face to you? But the Inspector is right - this is the only offer you're going to get. You either come with us now, or you just forget about it. And I do mean forget it. It never happened."

Ben stood and went to Ray's side. "I think we have no choice here, Ray. They've planted listening devices in your apartment - they could ruin you."

Ray looked at Welsh who grimaced and said, "I don't know about anything, Detective, until you rub my nose in it - or someone else does." The warning was clear.

Ray looked at them all, and finally at Ben. He nodded. "Let's get it on."

 

* * *

Thatcher directed them to a run down motel on the outskirts of the city, where they were told their party was in room twenty. A nondescript middle-aged man greeted them and asked them to sit. Ray was inclined to stand out of mulishness, and because he was creeped out, but a glare from Welsh made his knees bend. Thatcher and Ben sat at attention.

"So, we're here. Talk." Welsh said.

The spook steepled his hands. "Gentlemen, and Inspector - first, let me tell you. I am not here. You are not here. We have not met, and you will remember nothing of what has been said in this room."

Ray snorted. "Aren't you supposed to use your little black flashlight thingie? I saw that movie."

The spook turned cold gray eyes on him. "Detective. This is not a game, or a movie. The consequences for me, should you break the confidence, will be superficial. I assure you, they will not be superficial for you. Or your family. National security is more important than the individual - isn't that correct, Inspector?"

Thatcher looked distinctly uncomfortable. "Uh, yes. And I'm sure Detective Kowalski understands - don't you, detective?"

"You threatening me, buddy?" Ray stood up.

"Sit _down,_ detective," the man said coldly. "I am not threatening you. I am warning you. The consequences of revealing what you hear in this room will be swift and unpleasant. You may make your choice - but be aware you make them for all the people here. Including the constable."

Ray glared at the man then looked at Ben. "Ray, I think it would be wisest to listen. We came here for answers. Not revenge."

"Says who, Fraser? You weren't the one they cooked and froze half to death."

Ben winced. "No. I'm the one responsible for it. So, please - for my sake, and your own."

Ray realized he had hurt Ben and subsided.

"Thank you, constable," said the spook. "As you have both reminded us all, you and the detective suffered a great deal during your captivity, and on behalf of the United States government - unofficially, of course - I am authorized to offer you an apology. And some compensation."

Ray flared again. "Apology? Are you fucking joking?"

Ben put a hand on his arm. "Ray - please. Just listen. You were saying, sir?"

"Fuck that, Fraser. This bastard thinks he can buy our silence?"

"I don't need to buy your silence, detective. I thought I made that clear. However, you were inconvenienced, and I am authorized to offer you each an _ex gratia_ payment of $30,000."

Welsh turned to Ray. "Detective, I suggest you take the money, and then shut up." The stern look held an undertone of worry. Ray got the message and Welsh turned to the spook. "But you, you are going to tell us what is going on."

"Of course, lieutenant. That is what I am here for." The man's calm educated voice grated on Ray's nerves. "You gentlemen were participants in an experiment carried out by our government to assist in the interrogation of prisoners. In the past, various methods, including physical and psychological pressure..."

"You mean torture," Ben corrected sharply.

"We don't like to use the word, but, if you like, yes, torture has been used to extract information. The difficulty with that is the accuracy of the information is sometimes compromised and the subject is often unfortunately damaged by the procedure. We have been looking for a method of obtaining what is needed, with total accuracy, and without the moral dilemma cruder methods cause. We have been looking at a spectrum of men and women in all sorts of partnerships - even total strangers. You two were selected because of your well known strong friendship, and because you, Constable, are also known to be resistant to other methods of persuasion. In a way it was a tribute to you."

Ben's voice had the same chilly tone Ray remembered him using on Willie Warfield. "If you'll pardon me sir, I would rather not accept the compliment. And I fail to understand why you risked involving a Canadian citizen in this objectionable proceeding."

Thatcher cleared her throat. "Uh, Fraser. It would appear it was cleared ahead of time. We, that is, the Canadian government, are involved in this investigation."

Ben looked at her, stunned. "Then sir, all I can say is that this disappoints me greatly."

Ray could almost smell his sense of betrayal. That angered him even more than the dispassionate description of why they had been kidnapped.

"That all you can say, Fraser - you're disappointed? I'm not _disappointed_ \- I'm mad as hell. You're taking innocent people off the streets, nearly killing them - for research? That's fucking sick."

"It is the nature of war, detective. I'm sure you have, on occasion, used unorthodox methods to gain confessions - we are merely doing it on a bigger scale."

"You nearly killed me!"

"You were in no danger, I assure you. It was unpleasant, but you suffer no ill effects, do you?"

Ray was about to mention Ben's nightmares but Ben put his hand on his arm again, then looked at Welsh. "Sir - I've heard all I need. May we leave?" He stood up.

"With pleasure, Constable. I'm feeling a little nauseated. Something stinks in here."

Unfazed by the insult, the man held out two envelopes. Ben took them both politely and walked out of the room with Ray at his side.

"Don't tell me you're taking that blood money, Fraser."

"Certainly Ray. I know of several charities that could benefit from it."

"Take mine too - it makes my skin crawl. Are you coming over this evening?"

"Unfortunately, I will be busy tonight and tomorrow. But Friday?"

Ray was so angry, so intent on getting away from this motel and that bastard, so intent on getting to his gym so he could knock the crap out of a punching bag, that it was only later, after Ben had returned to the consulate, that he realized that they would be apart for the first time since they were set free. And that Ben, when he thought about it, had looked like hell.

 

* * *

Ben came over that Friday night as planned, and they didn't talk about the spooks - only about each other. Later, Ray would thank the glass of water which made him get up in the middle of the night to pee, and which made him discover that Ben had gone. They had made sweet, gentle love that night and Ben had never been more tender, more cherishing - more ... sad. Ray put it down to his lingering shock at learning the Canadians were involved in the sick business of his torture and assumed, with time, Ben would get over it and move on. What he hadn't expected that he would move on without him

Snapping on the living room light, he saw the envelope immediately and tore it open.   
 

> **_Ray._ **
> 
> **_By now you know I have gone. What you don't know yet is that I have left Chicago, and I have also resigned from the RCMP. It is cowardly of me to not tell you in person, but I didn't want my last memories of you marred by argument, nor did I want you to try and deter me from this course of action. I have decided I can no longer work with you as your partner - I cannot endure the possibility of watching you be placed in danger again, which is the very nature of police work. I also no longer wish to work for a government capable of countenancing such despicable acts as those carried out upon you. I have sent Dief to Maggie for the moment, but I am going elsewhere. Please do not try to find me. It is best for you that you get on with your life and your career without the burden of my sensibilities._ **
> 
> **_None of this means I love you any less. If anything, it means I love you more than ever. I will never forget you. I hope you will forgive me, eventually._ **
> 
> **_Your friend always,_ **
> 
> **_Benton Fraser_ **

_Fuck you, Fraser._ Ray was dressed in one and a half minutes, in the GTO and off with siren blaring for O'Hare in another minute.

 

* * *

Ray pounded through the terminal at O'Hare, jumping trolleys, dodging enormous Indian families trailing with their suitcases in long streams, and avoiding homicidal cleaning vehicles. He knew where the Canadian Airlines desk was from long experience seeing Ben off and taking the odd flight North himself, and as in so many things, Ben was nothing if not chauvinistic about his airlines. He flashed his badge and made an impressive show of needing to recapture a dangerous criminal, finally eliciting the information that Ben was on a flight already boarding. He couldn't avoid airport security tagging along, but he did manage to stop them getting on the plane with him. People were still finding their seats, and none too co-operative about getting out of his way, until he simply abandoned all pretense of discretion, and shouted "Police!"  That shut the plane up, and brought everyone's eyes upon him, including those of a tight-lipped, grim-faced ex-Mountie who knew exactly what he was doing there, and was determined not to let him have his way. Ray was in no mood for a fight, or Fraser bullshit.

"Benton Fraser, you are under arrest...."

"On what charge?" Ben asked incredulously.

"Attempted murder," and a shocked ripple of noise spread throughout the cabin.

"This is utter nonsense, Ray and you know it."

"Shut up, Fraser or you'll be looking at resisting arrest as well. Get up." Ben stood, assuring Ray with every movement that as soon as they were out of the public eye, Stanley Raymond Kowalski was a dead man. Believing the best defense was a good offense, Ray snapped cuffs on Ben as soon as he was upright and began reading him his rights in a tone clearly audible to the fascinated passengers. Ben was taking refuge in his constitutional right to silence, and walked stiffly and with complete dignity up the narrow passage. Ray couldn't resist a final dig.

"Sorry for the delay, folks. This man is a very dangerous character. I've been after him for a long time." When applause broke out, Ben turned round and gave Ray a deadly glare. Ray just grinned and pushed him along.

Ray asked the security people to secure Ben's luggage, and let them escort him and his sullen prisoner out to the illegally parked GTO. He had a little difficulty assuring them that he would be perfectly fine with his prisoner strapped in the front seat, but finally he was allowed to drive off.

"Attempted murder, detective?" Ben gritted out.

"Sure. Nearly gave me a heart attack with that stupid note of yours. Now shut up and let me drive. And if you try and run, I _will_ shoot you."

"Of course you will, Ray. Why should you be any different from my other partners?"

Ray ignored the jibe. Ben studiously avoided looking in his direction for the rest of the journey back to Ray's apartment. He parked, got out, and opened the passenger door. Ben refused to move.

"You gonna sit here all day, Fraser?"

"I think this farce has gone on long enough, Ray. I am not entering your building in handcuffs. I am not under arrest and you know it."

"You are, you know. Lean forward, and no tricks, because I'm just looking for an excuse to kick you in the head."

"The feeling is mutual, Ray," Ben growled bad-temperedly as Ray released his hands. But he stood, making a conspicuous display of stretching and rubbing his wrist, looking at Ray accusingly. Ray was having none of it.

"Up. Don't make me hit you, and drag you in."

"Did Stella like your cave man antics, Ray?"

"She said it turned her on, actually. Don't much care what it does for you as long as you get your perfect Canadian ass up those stairs now."

Ben clearly knew he was beaten and entered the building, going up the stairs with ill grace. He waited for Ray to open the door, pretending his own key  was suddenly useless. Ray prodded him inside, and with a hand on his shoulder, pushed him over to the sofa. He tossed Ben's note at him.

"Talk."

"Ray, I said everything in this. I was hoping to avoid a scene precisely like this."

"Tough. Nobody tells me to go to my room. Nobody makes life changing decisions for me without talking it over with me. And nobody gets out of my bed to leave the country without so much as a kiss good-bye. Nobody, Fraser. Not you, not Stella, not the fucking Queen of England. Now you damn well talk. Why couldn't you tell me about this?"

"Because you'd try to stop me. As indeed you have. But it's too late, Ray. I have resigned. Dief is on his way home, as I should be. There is nothing for me here any more."

"And I'm just a piece of dog shit, right? You scrape me off your shoes and you're done?"

"Your imagery is as colorful as it is incorrect, Ray. I was doing what I felt was best for you."

"Oh yeah, Ben. Like you have a lot of experience in that, in not hurting me."

Ben inhaled sharply and Ray realized what it sounded like he was saying. "Jesus, not that, Ben. I'm not talking about ... that room. I'm just talking about you taking your time to tell me how you felt about me. About how your other relationships went belly up."

"And you think that is more kind, do you? Bringing up Victoria? And Mark? Shall I mention Stella again to you? Patrick? Even your parents? What gives you the right to throw my failures in my face like this? What made you lose your trust in my judgment, when we have worked together for so long?"

Ray picked up the letter from Ben's lap, where it had lain untouched. "This, Fraser. This is what made me lose faith. This isn't partners, or lovers. It ain't buddies, even. You did this like you have no importance to me. I thought you knew - there isn't a you and a me now, it's an 'us'."

"We're not married, Ray. We've not been intimate for more than two weeks."

"Correction, pal. We've only been sleeping together for two weeks. We've been _intimate_ from day one, when you started feeling up my leg, and measuring my nose, and getting me shot. When did we last spend more than two days apart? Can you remember? Cos I sure can't. I've racked up as much time with you in three and a half years as I did with Stella in ten. So don't give me this shit. You want commitment? You want that trip to Hawaii? You got it."

"Is this your clumsy way of asking me to marry you, Ray? Because I have to say the circumstances are not ideal."

Ray was so frustrated he could have punched a hole in the wall. Ben was so wrapped up in his resentment at having his tidy plan disrupted, he couldn't feel the pain he had caused Ray. Or was there something Ray was missing? In desperation, he thought of the only thing he could do to convince the idiot he loved. "Give me your boot knife, Ben."

"Ray, surely this charade of me being under arrest has gone on long..."

"Give me your goddamn boot knife, or I will kick you in the head, I swear to you, as I live and breathe," Ray said through gritted teeth. Ben pulled the short knife out, and handed it to Ray by the blade without comment. Ray took his handcuffs out and cuffed his left wrist, leaving the other cuff dangling and open. Then he hefted the knife and carefully sliced the ball of his left hand, grimacing a little at the stinging pain. Blood immediately began to drip, following the tip of the knife down his hand. He shut off the protest springing to Ben's lips.

"You want commitment. You think I'm not serious? This is how serious I am, Fraser. You turn this down, and you can take my car back to the airport, and you can get on your plane. I won't do a thing to stop you - hell, I'll even pay for the flight. But this is me saying I love you, I want to be with you for the rest of your life and mine, wherever that turns out to be. If you can't live here, I'll come with you to Canada, or I'll support you here. The choice is yours. It's more than you were gonna give me."

Ben stared at him, and then at the carmine drops steadily running down Ray's hand, down the slim wrist, congealing where the liquid was trapped by the silver cuff. He put out his hand, and Ray passed him the knife. Ben took the dangling handcuff and bound his right wrist, quickly sliced a matching cut on his hand, then clasped Ray's hand in his own in a death grip.

"Should we be making vows at this point, Ray?"

Ben was only six inches from Ray's face, and Ray was losing himself in the intense blue of his eyes, in the warm familiar smell of his breath. He pulled back at the slightly sarcastic words. "Yeah. Why not. OK. I, Ray Kowalski, swear to you, Benton Fraser, that I will love you and be with you for the rest of my natural life, so help me God. And I also swear that if you ever run off and leave me like this without a word, I will hunt you down and pound you into the ground. So help me god. Your turn."

"All right - I, Benton Fraser, also swear to love you and be with you for the rest of my natural life, so help me god - Ray, we really should have a bible...."

"Use your imagination, Ben."

"OK.  And I also swear if you do something like that in an airport ever again, I shall break every bone in your body _and_ convince Diefenbaker that you hide donuts in your boxer shorts."

"So, we're ... really? Ben, that's mean."

"It's only justice, Ray. That was unkind and humiliating."

"Good fun, though. Bet they'll talk about it for a week."

"For a year, I should imagine," Ben said dryly, but a grin was almost creeping out from underneath his stern expression. "Was it strictly necessary to tell them how dangerous I am?"

"It's the truth, Ben. You're the most dangerous man I know. Since I met you, I've risked death 57 times, and that doesn't include the fact I'm bleeding to death here. Are we done yet?"

"Not quite."

Keeping his eyes on Ray's, Ben brought their joined hands to his mouth, then slowly, deliberately, licked the trickle of blood leaking down Ray's wrist and under the metal band with a long pink tongue whose touch made Ray shiver for all the heat of it. He cleaned his own wrist, then brought his mouth to Ray's. Ray could taste the blood - their blood, mingled - and wondered why the thought didn't make him sick. Instead he became hard, and hungry for more of Ben, more of himself, and he delved into Ben's mouth, searching, tasting, trying to suck the essence of them out of him. Ben moaned and he felt their cuffed hands being pulled lower. Ben made them both kneel, before Ben's hand on his own put it around their dicks, together, and he began to jack. Ray convulsed - too much sensation - but Ben didn't relent, stroking them in strong, deliberate movements, their hands on their dicks, soft silky skin against skin, the blood making things stick and slide. He wanted to climb inside Ben's mouth - he wanted to thrust and push into their hands - he wanted this not to end. But it did at last in a sudden jet of heat between them. He felt his body twitching, jerking with the aftershocks, and Ben's strong arm, gripping him, holding him up, pulling him in. And in all that time, his mouth was on Ben's, and Ben's tongue in his mouth. But now Ben pulled away. He interlaced the fingers of their bound hands, and rubbed them in the hot mess on them, rubbing it all over their hands, mixing the jism. He brought the linked fingers to Ray's mouth. Ray understood. He licked, and tasted, then Ben was there too, licking and cleaning, their tongues tasting together the semen, the blood, the sweat of fear and tension and desire. He licked until he could taste nothing but his own saliva on Ben's fingers, and then he took them into his mouth and sucked. Ben moaned and pulled them away so he could replace them with his mouth.

At last the adrenaline stopped pumping, and the kiss became an exercise in mutual support. Ray broke away and put his free arm around Ben's shoulders. "How could you leave?" he whispered.

"I don't know now. And I will never be able to again." Ben pulled away and reached behind himself. His hand returned with a set of keys with which he calmly unlocked the cuffs.

"You ... you could have got free all this time?" Ray demanded, surprised and angry.

Ben looked at him steadily. "I could have gotten _loose_ at any time. I will never be free. And I don't want to be."

He brought Ray's hand up between them, held in flat in front of him, then bent and licked it clean all around the cut, between the fingers. Ray sat mesmerized, knowing that they had made a powerful magic by the joining of their blood, the mixing of their semen, that would never let either of them be free. Ben got up, but Ray stayed where he was, kneeling back, staring at the red line that he knew would leave a scar - the same as Ben would have. It might fade, it might become visible only to those who knew it was there, but it would always be there.

Ben returned with a bowl of clean hot water, a cloth, antiseptic cream and dressings, and proceeded to gently clean and dress the cut. He let Ray do the same to him, then he set it all aside and took Ray into his embrace.

"You do realize, I suppose," he said into Ray's neck, "that all of my belongings are now on the way to Canada, as is Diefenbaker, and that I am here without support or position?"

"Suits me. I'll keep you naked and handcuffed to my bed so I can have my way with you whenever I want."

Ben lifted his head and smiled wryly. "Ray Kowalski's sex slave - hmmm, it has a certain ring to it, I must admit. But perhaps not the most practical solution."

"You really resigned? You, a Mountie to your underpants. You, who jerks off to the official manuals..."

"I do not!"

"You're missing the point here, Ben - what the fuck did you think you were gonna do with yourself?"

"Does it matter now? I'm here."

"Yes, it fucking matters. You didn't think maybe I'd want to come along, did you? So what were you going to do?"

Ben sighed and sat back. "I was going back to the cabin and was planning to spend some time thinking. And then look for a job, doing I don't know what. But I am resourceful."

"Can't you, like, tell the RCMP that you've changed your mind or something?"

"I could, but I'm not going to. They betrayed me, Ray. Just as your country betrayed you. But you don't work directly for your government the way I do."

Ray understood. But he had no solution to offer. "You can stay here, you know. I make enough for two," knowing Ben would immediately reject this, as indeed he did.

"No, Ray, I can't allow that. I am a healthy, fit man. I need to support myself."

"But you can't work here."

"Well - no, that was why I was going back to Canada."

Ray shook his head tiredly. He realized he hadn't had coffee, or food - well, not in any conventional sense - and his body was telling him it was nearly lunch for all it was only ten o'clock. I just got married, he thought with some amazement - before breakfast. That almost made him giggle - even if it was eighty percent reaction to the weirdness of it all.  He was feeling light-headed, that's for sure.

"What's so amusing, Ray"

"Nothing, Ben. Let's get cleaned up. I need caffeine and sugar and pastry. And that means going out."

 

* * *

The bright sunshine of the Saturday morning failed to work its usually conjuring trick of making the city look less filthy than it usually did. Ben knew why Ray had done what he had - could do no other, being who he was. But he hadn't really told Ray how sick at heart he felt - how betrayal had reinforced a growing homesickness and bone weariness with being in the city - and now he felt he couldn't, not after the promises they had made to each other this morning. But sipping their tea and coffee, it was Ray who brought it up. "You know, Ben - I wish I could go to Canada with you. I'm so sick of this," waving his hand at the litter and the broken glass in the street gutter.

"If I can find a way, would you come back North with me?"

" 'If' being the problem, buddy. You know I can't work up there, and since you just threw away your job, what the hell would we live on? Love?"

Ray was right of course. He had been selfish and foolish. But he had felt impelled - no, _propelled_ \- by an irresistible rush of disgust and horror at what had happened. Belatedly he realized that perhaps this was as much an after effect of their experience as the nightmares had been. He flexed his hand, feeling the sting of the cut. It felt real, as had their impromptu vows. The only real thing he could hang onto.

"Hey, Ben - you OK?" Ray was watching him with real concern.

"I'm all right. Just thinking about options."

"Leave it for today, Ben. You know we're on honeymoon?"

The evil glint in Ray's eyes cheered Ben slightly, but as they walked back to Ray's apartment, he kept turning the problem over and over in his mind, and coming to no resolution. Things would have been simpler, if much more painful, if Ray had let him leave. He sighed silently as he followed Ray in the front door.

"Wow - five messages. We were only gone an hour." Ray played them. One was from Inspector Murphy demanding Ben call him at home. One was from Lieutenant Welsh demanding Ray call him at home. And there were three from Meg Thatcher demanding either of them call her at home _at once._

"I can bet what this is about. Didn't tell anyone, huh."

Ben shook his head sheepishly. "No. I just left a note for Inspector Murphy. Against regulations, but I felt I just couldn't bear a prolonged notice period."

"You gonna call them back?"

"Not now, Ray. Wait until Monday."

They weren't given a choice in the end. An hour later Thatcher called. Ray answered. "Hi, Inspector. Yeah, we got your message but Fraser ... look, I don't think.... uh. Okay." He muted the phone. "She says it's a matter of life or death."

Ben frowned. The inspector was not prone to hyperbole even if she was, on occasion, somewhat excitable. He took the phone from Ray. "Inspector? Yes, you heard correctly. No, sir, I can't. That's not ...." He was silent for a long time, not even giving the little hmmms and grunts that Ray would have expected, to show he was still listening. Finally, "I see. You have a point. If I agree, there is a condition - two, in fact. I want to be reassigned to Canada - the Territories, as remote as you can make it.... Yes, Baffin Island would be fine. And I need a working visa for an American ... yes, him. Can you arrange this? All right, I'll call you back, I have to discuss it."

He hung up and looked at Ray, who looked worried.  Ben knew that every word they said was being monitored but as it no longer seemed possible to keep secrets, he really didn't care. "Meg has made a rather unanswerable argument for my allowing them to refuse my resignation. Apparently part of the arrangement whereby we learned about the background to our kidnapping was that I would continue to be a member of the RCMP. This would allow them to invoke the confidentiality clause in my contract."

"You mean they thought they could control you like a good little Mountie."

"Yes, so to speak. My departure has caused some alarm in certain quarters - they are afraid I intend to use my freedom to speak to the press. And you know what they threatened if either of us did."

Ray went white. "Mom - Dad," he whispered.

Ben nodded. "Maggie too. Meg has managed to delay things until she spoke to me - in fact, it is as well that you brought me back, all things considered. She says if I revoke my resignation and return, all will be well. I took the liberty, as you heard, of using the situation to give you the choice of moving to Canada if you want. Do you?"

"Yes. Call her back."

"Ray - be sure about this. If I go, I want nothing more to do with cities or towns."

"Ben - call her back," he said urgently. "I want out too, and I want Mom and Dad to be safe."

Ben could see Ray was serious, under the rising panic. He called the inspector and made the arrangements, changing their lives forever. He was to return to the consulate on Monday, and he would be transferred within the month. And their families would be safe.

Ray calmed down immediately. "I'm sorry, Ben. I know you wanted to get free of them."

"Yes, I did. I do. But I can still leave in a couple of years without fuss, and truly, it's better this way. But you now will be giving up your job - do you mind?"

"I can be a cop in Canada - or chop wood, or hunt deer. Anything. Just want to be with you, keep everyone safe - get away from these bastards." Ray moved his head - he too was aware of their invisible audience.

"I have no argument with that, Ray."

"Guess I better call Welsh and give him the bad news."

"Wait ..." Ben took the phone from Ray, and wrapped his arms around him, "I love you, Ray. Whatever happens. And I promise you will never regret coming with me because of anything I do."

"Never would, Benton Fraser. Why do you think I've stuck with you all this time? You think I _like_ having my life endangered repeatedly?"

"Well, yes, I think you do," Ben grinned.

"Then you're the perfect choice for me, aren't you, dummy. You wanna to celebrate with a fuck?"

Baffin Island, Ben thought ruefully as he let Ray lead him back to bed, was never going to be the same again.

**` ------------------------------------------------------------------------` ** **`` **

**` directive :report:` ** **`` **

**` status :surveillance continues:` ** **`` **

**` directive :carry on:` ** **`` **

**` status :understood:` ** **`` **

**` ------------------------------------------------------------------------` **

**Author's Note:**

> This story was written nearly twenty years ago under another pseudonym. It hasn't been revised since then.
> 
> I am posting this and my other stories from this period purely so people can read them if they choose. I won't be reading comments, and don't care if you leave kudos. I'm dumping them and running.
> 
> Having said that, I worked hard on them, and I hope they still entertain someone out there.


End file.
